


stand by me

by reptileetea



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, F/M, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, How Do I Tag, Hurt Richie Tozier, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, IT Chapter Two Fix-It, IT Chapter Two Spoilers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Movie: IT (2017), Movie: IT Chapter Two (2019), Reddie, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak Are In Love, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Richie dies instead of Eddie, Role Reversal, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-02 08:37:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21158759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reptileetea/pseuds/reptileetea
Summary: “I,” Richie let out a wet hack, blood flying from his lips. “I really like you, Eddie. Like, really do. Even more than I like your mom.” He forced a weak smile, grimacing when the small movement pulled at his injury. “And I always have.alternate ending in which richie is stabbed by pennywise instead of eddie but survives. might turn into domestic boyfriend/married reddie depending on if anyone ends up reading/i decide to continue. please excuse any typos/grammatical errors, i suck at editing





	1. Chapter 1

“Yippee ki yay, motherfuc-“ 

Eddie Kaspbrak watched in silent horror as Richie’s body went rigid and was lifted from the ground, enveloped by the blinding glow of the deadlights. His best friend’s jaw hung slack, usually lively eyes now grotesquely rolled back to their whites. 

Eddie could feel his heart in his throat and his hands trembled more violently than he even thought was possible. If that was him up there, hanging suspended by a killer space clown’s lightbulbs of death, Richie would already be in there beating the shit out of Pennywise. Hell, he’d probably have Eddie back to earth and teasing him relentlessly by now. 

He had to be brave. For Richie. 

He glanced down at the makeshift spear in his hands and tightened his grip. This kills monsters. If you believe it does. 

With a deep breath and the most fearsome warcry he could manage, Eddie barreled into the war zone and threw his arm forward with as much force as possible, sending the spear flying straight into Pennywise’s gaping maw. 

The clown staggered back and made a choked gurgling sound, before letting loose an eruption of what could only be explained as ectoplasmic lava from its mouth. 

Richie dropped to the ground in a heap of splayed limbs with a resounding thud and the next thing Eddie knew, he was crouched over his unconscious best friend, frantically checking for signs of life. 

“Rich! Richie. Come on, man.” He lightly slapped Richie’s cheek, which resulted in his eyes fluttering open and momentarily darting back and forth in confusion before confirming that yes, he was in a shitty cavern in the sewers where a sorry excuse for Ronald McDonald lived. Eddie had never been happier to see those excitable brown eyes. He placed a tender hand on Richie’s cheek, who smiled warmly and leaned into his embrace. 

“I think I killed it, man. It’s gone! I killed it!” Eddie exclaimed, waving his hands around. 

Richie wanted so badly to believe Eddie, to be able to tell him “yeah, you did. You badass motherfucker. You just fucking decked a child-eating space clown”, but there was no way it could be that easy. 

Right? 

The comedian’s suspicions were proven correct at the sight of a massive leg rising from the ground behind Eddie. 

Before Eddie could react, Richie had sat up and shoved him to the side and Pennywise’s leg had torn through his chest, ripping flesh and tissue like scissors through paper. 

Eddie let out a hoarse yell as Richie’s blood sprayed onto his face, the taste of iron beginning to flood his mouth.

His best friend was flung roughly into a wall of the cavern and Pennywise, thick beads of saliva dripping from its jaws, spun around to face the rest of the Losers, all of whom were screaming in terror, especially Eddie; who could barely see through the blur of his tears.

At that moment, the thought of defeating the clown escaped Eddie’s mind. The only thought pulsing through his head was of Richie, Richie with his dark curls and his stupid glasses and a gaping hole in his chest. 

And so Eddie took off, dodging the monstrous spider legs that loomed over him and forgetting any bit of arachnophobia that once made a home in him. Bill thought about yelling after the other man, asking him what the hell he was doing, they still had to kill this fucking clown; but Bev laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and simply shook her head, a sad smile on her face. And that was enough for Bill to realize his mistake. 

The first thing Eddie noticed when he reached Richie was the blood. There was so much blood, more than what seemed possible to come out of one human being. He shivered at the sight of it, but swallowed that twinge of anxiety that he felt, ignoring his mother’s words echoing in his head. “Do you know how many diseases you can catch from touching someone else’s blood? You could get AIDS, Eddie-Bear. You know how rampant that is right now, especially with all those homosexuals out there.”

Richie seemed equally as shocked. A shaky hand of his hovered over the hole in him while another hand wiped away the blood dribbling from his parted lips. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Eds. I can’t feel anything below my neck. Kinda like how I felt after last night with your mom, but somehow worse.” Richie’s words came out in harsh gasps. 

Eddie fell to his knees beside Richie, his bottom lip quivering. He knew how to dress a scrape, how to perform CPR, and even how to deal with head trauma (that time Richie fell down his staircase and ate shit gifted him with that ability) but was never taught what to do if his best friend got impaled by a spider clown. 

“Just shut up, Richie. You’re in shock. Shut up.” He wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve and shrugged out of his sweatshirt before pressing it to Richie’s wound, who hissed and jerked at the touch. 

“You know, Eds. I’ve always wanted you on top of me. Just never thought it’d be like this.” The comedian squirmed uncomfortably, trying to find a position that didn’t strain the wound in his chest. 

Eddie chuckled softly and put his hand behind Richie’s head, both to support him and give him an excuse to run his hands through his curls, which he desperately hoped was comforting. 

“I,” Richie let out a wet hack, blood flying from his lips. “I really like you, Eddie. Like, really do. Even more than I like your mom.” He forced a weak smile, grimacing when the small movement pulled at his injury. “And I always have.”

Eddie didn’t bother holding in his tears anymore. He let them flow freely, the thought of getting the bandaging on his cheek damp and all the risks that came with that not even coming to mind. 

“I really like you too, Rich. You fucking dumbass.” 

In the distance, the rest of the Losers let out triumphant whoops and hollers and Eddie could only hope that meant what he thought it did. 

As if to confirm his suspicions, Bev appeared from the darkness, followed by Ben, and then Bill, and Mike. They all had massive smiles on their faces, and Bill punched Mike in the shoulder playfully, but their expressions dropped when they saw Eddie and Richie. Oh, that’s right. Their friend was dying. 

Bev reached out and took Richie’s hand, which was trembling from the sheer amount of blood he had lost. She swallowed her tears and tightened her grip on his hand. She had always put on a brave face. Now wasn’t the time to change that. 

“How bad is i-“ Mike’s words trailed off as he reached his friends. “Oh my god.” 

Richie grinned, revealing red-stained teeth. “That’s a real reassuring thing to say to a dying guy, Mikey.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Richie. You’re not dying.” Eddie retorted, but he knew better. 

They were running out of time. 

Richie was starting to fade away and it was obvious. His eyelids felt like lead, and if he just went to sleep… He’d wake up and feel better. Right? 

Bill stared in silent horror as Richie’s eyelids began to flutter closed. “Rich, no. Come on Rich, keep your eyes open.” He lightly shook his friend, but when he looked up again, Richie’s eyes were shut.

Bev let out a sad sigh beside Eddie. “We have to get going. This place is gonna cave in any minute now.” 

Eddie choked out a sob as he placed two trembling fingers to the side of Richie’s neck, who to his delight, still had a pulse. Albeit sluggish, but it was there. 

“Bev, he’s still alive. We can’t leave him down here.” 

The redhead smiled sadly, but she knew she wasn’t tricking anyone. Her feelings were apparent by her damp eyes. 

“Eddie, honey, he’s not gonna survive the trip ba-“ 

“Wait, his glasses. Richie needs his glasses!” Eddie cut Bev off and proceeded to stand up and frantically search for the rectangular bifocals, turning over pieces of debris and picking his way through the rubble. 

Ben followed Eddie’s lead and before long, Bill and Mike had too, leaving Bev who insisted on keeping Richie company. 

Eventually Ben found them, having spotted the lenses glimmering in the beam of his flashlight. They must had fallen off Richie’s face when Pennywise skewered him. 

Eddie rushed back to set them atop the bridge of Richie’s nose, who was still out cold, before sitting down beside his unconscious friend and declaring that he wasn’t going anywhere without Richie as the cavern began to crumble. 

Both Bill and Mike tried to reason with him, but he wasn’t budging. He couldn’t leave Richie alone, not after all of those years of Richie being there for him. Richie sneaking through his bedroom window when his mom was being a pain in the ass, Richie taking beatings from bullies that were originally meant for him. 

The Losers all watched Eddie and Richie with tired expressions. What were they supposed to tell Eddie? Were they just supposed to pull him away, kicking and screaming? 

“I’ll give you guys a choice. You either leave me here with Rich, or you help me get him out of this shithole. 

Everyone was deathly silent for a moment. 

Bev stepped forward. “Let’s get him out of here.” 

Ben nodded and appeared beside her, intertwining their fingers. Bill and Mike followed suit. 

Eddie smirked slightly and stood up before leaning over and picking Richie up bridal style, who flinched at the touch, but otherwise didn’t stir. 

—-

The trip back through the murky waters of the sewers and the twisting halls of the Neibolt house was grueling, to say the absolute least, but the relief Eddie felt as he sat in the street, Richie’s head in his lap, watching Neibolt fold in on itself and collapse, was immense. 

He bowed his head and pressed a chaste kiss to Richie’s forehead. It was finally over. They could rest now.


	2. two

Eddie stared down at the now cold coffee in his styrofoam cup, which was probably crawling with germs considering it was stacked in a pile of other cups beside a public coffee maker. He wrinkled his nose at the thought. 

Richie had been in surgery for eight hours now. 

He could imagine they were quite the site to see in a hospital waiting room on a weekday night, Bev passed out on Ben’s, who was also conked out, shoulder in her blood-stained tank top that was, believe it or not, once white. Bill feverishly scribbling every thought he had into a small notebook he had apparently had on him the entire time. He had to give his movie an ending somehow. And Mike, who could forget Mikey, who hadn’t seemed to have peeled his eyes from the wall clock the entire time they’d been there. 

Eddie’s head was anything but clear enough to sleep, or conjure up book endings, or even to just stare at a clock and process just how long they’d been there. So he resorted to gazing into the depths of his coffee cup, everything that could possibly go wrong with Richie coursing through his mind. There was no way he could still be alive or even stable, right? It had been eight fucking hours. What surgery took that long? Well, brain surgery took that long, Eddie’s conscience offered, but this wasn’t brain surgery. Eddie decided that it was somehow worse. 

“Eddie.” He looked up at the sound of his name to see Mike, who’s eyes had finally left that clock, looking at him. 

“You gotta calm down, man. Or at the very least drink that coffee, you’ve been staring at it for an hour now.” Mike mused. 

Eddie nodded steadily and took a sip in response, wincing at the sour taste of cold coffee. Gross. 

“You know Richie’s gonna be ok, right? If there’s one thing I know about him, he’s a stubborn bitch. He has too many your mom jokes to make to die so soon.” Mike offered. Eddie smiled at that. 

—-

The surgeon emerged from the operating theater what felt like an eternity later. She was visibly and understandably tired as she pulled her blood-soaked gloves from her hands with an audible rubber snap. 

Bev had been awake for a few minutes at that point and gently nudged Ben, who inched back into consciousness. Bill practically slammed his notebook shut and Mike sat up straight as Eddie leapt to his feet.

“How is he?” 

The surgeon raked a hand through her hair. “He’s stable, heavily drugged so he’s still knocked out. What did you say it was that happened again?” 

All eyes flew to Bev, who tended to be the best at talking her way out of things, besides Richie of course. 

“We’re uh- urban explorers. We were investigating an abandoned house-“

“With permission, of course.” Mike piped up before smiling sheepishly. 

“Right. Yeah. And it started to cave in, so we began to leave but a beam fell and ended up, uh, impaling Richie.” Bev finished. She thought she saw a glint of disbelief in the surgeon’s eyes, but decided to ultimately ignore it. 

“Well, he’s very lucky. Had that beam hit him two inches to the right, it would’ve severed one of his posterior intercostal arteries.” 

Eddie swallowed. Did this mean he was gonna be ok?

The surgeon cleared her throat. “So are any of you directly related to Mr. Tozier?” 

Everyone was silent for a moment, not exactly knowing what to say, until Eddie spoke up. 

“I’m his husband.”

Mike practically choked on the swig of water he was taking, to which the surgeon cocked an eyebrow at, but didn’t seem to be overly concerned with. 

“You’re next of kin, so you can come see him whenever you’re r-“ 

Eddie cut her off before even realizing it. “Can I see him now?” 

The next minute or two as the surgeon led him down the hallway and into Richie’s room was a blur. He felt like he was floating the entire time, like he was caught in the deadlights, not quite grounded or aware of what was going on. 

When he saw Richie, he was expecting him to look dead, all of the life sucked out of him through a clown’s giant spider leg, but he didn’t. Sure, he was asleep, and milky pale, but he looked alive. Certainly more alive than he had looked in the sewers, deathly pale and red blood blossoming from his chest, which had been ripped open like a Christmas present (of course minus the bow and the delighted squeals of the gift’s recipient.) 

He turned around to thank the doctor, who he quickly realized had decided to give him time with his “husband” and was making her way back down the hall, likely to let the other Losers know that they could see their friend as soon as he woke up. So Eddie sat in the chair at the head of the bed and took Richie’s hand as gently as he could and closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of Richie’s hand in his. 

—-

The first thing Richie was aware of was the dull weight in his chest that made him feel like his midsection was tethered to stones and sinking into the depths of an ocean, as his head, arms, and legs somehow remained afloat. He experimentally cracked an eye open, wincing and snapping it back shut when he realized the sheer amount of light coming from overhead, which only then made him realize that he was in a hospital. Only hospital lighting was that stupidly bright. He raised an arm to lay across his eyes, the IV buried in his flesh protesting with a sharp tug. He sucked in air through his teeth in a wince and forced his eyes open to drink in his surroundings, and was pleasantly surprised to find Eddie at his bedside, asleep, but gripping his hand. 

Richie cleared his throat. “Eds?” His voice came out in a hoarse whisper. 

Eddie jerked awake almost immediately and stared dumbly before speaking. 

“Rich?” 

“Of course it’s me. Who else is this ugly?” 

Eddie beamed and leaned down to take Richie into a gentle hug, ignoring the hot tears dripping down his face. 

“Rich, oh fuck. Jesus Christ. I thought you were dead.” He swallowed and pulled back to see his friend better, holding Richie’s face tenderly in his hands. 

He glanced down at his slightly parted lips. He wanted to kiss him so bad. He wanted to kiss him because he loved him, because he was alive. So he did. 

Once again, he leaned forward, but this time he pressed his lips to Richie’s. At first Richie didn’t know what to do, but after a moment of confusion he kissed Eddie back, their lips moving against one another in perfect harmony. Eddie hooked his arms behind Richie’s neck, careful not to move him too much, and Richie let out a content sigh. Eddie smiled against the kiss and everything was perfect, Richie was safe, Richie was in his arms, their faces were currently mashed together and-

“Excuse me.” 

The two men pulled away from one another and whirled around to face a disappointed nurse standing in the doorway. She raised an eyebrow and waved Eddie away, who quickly realized that he had found his way onto Richie’s bed at one point and was currently straddling his hips. His fingers were tangled in the curls at the nape of Richie’s neck. He turned a deep shade of red before hurriedly scrambling off the bed and settling himself back in his chair. 

“Were you planning on letting anyone know that he was awake?” The nurse asked as she placed the earpieces of her stethoscope in her ears and pressed the bell to Richie’s chest.

Richie grinned, that fucking shit-eating grin. 

“Yeah Spaghetti, were you? Or were we just gonna swap spit all day long? Not that I’d mind.” 

Eddie’s cheeks went even redder. “Shut up, Richie.” 

—-

“So how do you feel?” Bev asked, perched at the foot of Richie’s bed. She was still wearing that tank top, stained crimson and her hair looked a bit like a fucked up bird nest. Come to think of it, everyone’s hair looked like a bit like a fucked up bird nest. Had they really ignored their own comfort for Richie? Had none of those smelly motherfuckers showered? Just because of him? He thought it was ridiculous and felt slightly guilty, but smiled anyway. 

“Bev, my darling, my love, light of my life… I feel like a hot, steaming pile of dog shit left outside in the sun on a boiling summer’s day.” 

Bev wrinkled her nose and Eddie simply quipped “that’s fucking disgusting, Richie”, but he earned a small chuckle from Mike, Ben, and Bill. Mission accomplished. 

“No, but dude… Can you imagine being a pile of shit in the summer? That must suck so bad.” Richie continued, only because Eddie’s face continued to become even more disgusted with every passing second. 

“As opposed to being a pile of shit in the winter? I’m pretty sure being shit would suck no matter what season it was.” Bev chimed in, crossing her arms across her chest. Ben nodded in agreement. 

“But shit smells so much worse when it’s warm out. Do you remember how bad the Barrens smelled on hot days?” Bill added. 

Richie let out a bark of laughter and winced slightly at the strain on his injury. “Dude. Imagine how gross shit gets when it’s hot. It probably like… Melts. And then there are flies…” He pretended to dry-heave and continued to laugh. 

“Shut up, Richie! You’re fucking nasty!” Eddie squealed, gesturing wildly with his hands. 

The Losers laughed, and it felt like old times. It felt like sitting at the quarry, feet dangling in the icy water, hair drying in strange positions. It felt like the July sun beating down on their backs, painting freckles onto their skin. It felt like the sweet aroma of wildflowers and the damp, earthy smell of the woods. It felt like the trees and the leaves and the dirt. It felt like skinned knees and bruised shins and tube socks with colorful stripes. It felt like childhood. 

—-

Mike left shortly after and returned about a half hour later with McDonald’s (or clogged arteries, according to Eddie.) Richie was just thrilled to have a Happy Meal, complete with a slightly lopsided cheeseburger and a wind-up turtle toy. After the incident at Jade Of The Orient, he had been too nervous to eat. His mind had been too focused on cartoonish white gloves and red noses and razor sharp teeth glowing white in the pitch darkness of a sewer tunnel to even begin to think of his needs. 

“So, when are you gonna be able to get out of here?” Mike asked through a mouthful of burger. 

Richie rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. “Doc says that if all goes well I can go home in about a week. But it’s not like I’ll be able to do anything.” 

Mike nodded in understanding, a sad smile plastered on his face. 

“You gonna go back to California as soon as you’re out of here?” Ben questioned, balling up his sandwich wrapper (which he had been very hesitant to eat, he was so worried about his weight, until Richie called him a pussy) and tossing it into the garbage can. 

Richie turned to Eddie, whose lips were in a tight straight line. Then he looked around at his friends, all there and caring and loving. Friends that he had only recently discovered how much they meant to him. Friends. Losers. 

“I don’t think I’m quite ready to leave you guys.” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so so much for reading and for all of the kudos and nice comments on my last chapter!! i’m blown away by the attention this is getting! please let me know if you’d like more!!

**Author's Note:**

> let me know if you want me to continue this?? comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!!


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